Through the Eyes of a Child
by Dina M
Summary: LL, descriptive, oneshot. She can feel his hot breath against her finger, the sultry warm air tickling her hand and face, as she gazes at him, their eyes locked on each other, faces only a few inches apart.


AN: This is pretty much AU. Lorelai is looking through/unpacking some of Rory's boxes. I have a back-story in my mind, but it really doesn't matter, take your pick of why Lorelai is doing this. Oh, and in this story, Rory is still at Yale, and forget about any and all Rory/Logan/Mitchum stuff. ) Rory isn't a focus at all.

Oh right. Disclaimer: I own none of this. Nothing. Just writing a story about my favorite TV 'ship. )

It's late. Bleak rays of sun shine lucidly through the window into her bedroom, which is illuminated by a lamp. The muggy humid air tangibly encompasses her whole body with its fluid but brittle hands, fingers compressing around her body, knuckles bending slowly. She can't breathe, and inwardly curses herself, listlessly flopping down on the bed, curls falling across her forehead, bouncing lightly. With visible effort she opens the box, as the musty stench of old papers fills the room, seeping into all the cracks and corners.

It's filled with dusty papers, old notebooks, and ragged dividers. _Thank God I don't __have allergies_ she thinks. She starts to sift through the mass of papers, laggardly thumbing through the notebooks and folders. A soft sigh exits her mouth, fluttering lightly into the air on a current of warm breath. With that, she moves around a bit, finally situating herself comfortably, at least for the moment. Lifting a moss green colored folder, she skims its contents, as a faded paper falls out. _Love vs. Lust_ it says. _Rory said I could read anything, so why not. Lets see what my genius kids wrote on….._she glances back at the page ..._6/17/98_.

1**. What is the difference between love and lust? What is better?**

I think love and lust are very different, because lust is being physically attracted to someone, while love is actually loving them for who they are, and not for what they look like, their money, or their family. I think when you meet somebody, you are often attracted to them because of lust, because they look different or somehow they act differently, and that intrigues you. When you get to know them better, you start to love them, because you get to know who they are, and what they're really like on the inside, not just the outside. I think that although lust and love often come hand in hand, they are very hard to compare. When people are younger, they probably have less love but more lust, and then when they're older and married, there is less lust but more love. I think they are both important, and vital for the longevity of a relationship.

_wow_ she breathes. _and she was what, like, fourteen?_ A warm wave of emotions washes over her as images of Rory float through her head, images of her, Rory, and Luke… _Luke_…and suddenly she is doused with a cold breath of air, shivers running down her back. She is lost, hurt, confused, uncertain, she suddenly _doesn't know_. A weary brush of her hand, a forlorn smile, a deep breath of air, and suddenly she can't control herself. Her shoulders heave convulsively, but she digs her hands into her eyes, desperately fighting to remain calm. Her efforts are useless- tears flood her face, streaming down her cheeks, as she pushes her hand into her mouth, gnawing at her knuckles, trying to stop the hiccupping that ensues.

Hands furiously wiping away the tears on her cheeks, she sinks down into the soft pillows of her bed, but they're too rough, with ugly embroidered designs. _I love you!_ she sobs, throwing the pillow violently against the walls, sinking down on the bed, reduced to tears.

The bedspread is damp, and she's almost too tired to cry, hiccupping occasionally. The blankets are tangled at her legs, the box shoved off the bed in a sudden bout of rage and confusion about an hour ago. Her chest heaves heavily, up and down, unable to calm down and subside.

She hears his footsteps near the bottom of the stairs, a tentative _"Lorelai?"_, sending a new flood of quiet, more reserved tears to her face. She isn't sad anymore, she has control of herself, these are tears of exhaustion. She hears the stairs creak as he ascends evenly upstairs, opening the door to her room. But she is ready, and turns to him with a wavering smile, tears quivering in her soft blue eyes.

His face registers surprise, but he doesn't stop to think, just slides himself onto the bed, planting soft and sticky kisses on her face. First he wipes off the tears on her cheeks, gently and tenderly kissing her swollen red face. He smoothes her hair and plants a stream of kisses all over her forehead, shoulders, and neck. He plants kisses on her nose, cupping his rough hands around her face, softly caressing her ears with his thumbs. His face looks worried, but full of tenderness, and he begins to kiss her lightly on her lips, gradually planting wetter and longer kisses. He can feel her kiss back, at first uncertainly and gently, later more passionately. All the while his hands have slowly moved onto her back and shoulders, and he fondly rubs her skin. He stops kissing only to get some air, and continues to gently brush away her tears, tracing his fingers on her soft skin. He knows they need to talk, knows she needs to talk, but can't stop until he knows she has calmed down.

She seems frail in his arms, and he resigns to hold her more closely, kiss her more delicately, and rub her more gently. Her sobs have now completely subsided, her hiccups gone, all fear, doubt, and uncertainty long gone from her face and her mind, but still he continues to kiss her, continues to care for her gently, lovingly nuzzling and stroking her. She lets herself be enveloped in his strong arms, and breathes in the comforting Luke smell. She pulls away slowly from his kisses, laying a finger to his lips. She can feel his hot breath against her finger, the sultry warm air tickling her hand and face, as she gazes at him, their eyes locked on each other, faces only a few inches apart. _Lorelai_ he whispers gently.

Her face is red from crying, makeup running everywhere, yet she emanates a radiant beauty. Pale cheeks puffy, delicate pink lips swollen, hair mussed and cascading down her shoulders, knotted, frizzy, and uneven, she gazes into his eyes, and even so vulnerable, so naked and exposed, so real and natural and open, she has never looked more beautiful. They're both quiet for a moment, until he delicately fingers her earrings, planting one last kiss on her nose. She's smiling nervously, yet her heart is beating, racing in anticipation, her breathing uneven and ragged. _Luke_ she chokes out. Her voice is course and rough, catching in her throat. _I love you_. Those three words linger in the air, dissipating slowly. His breath is hot against her ear, his lips sweet and comforting against her face. _I love you too_ he breathes.

AN2: Sorry for not really connecting the dots from when Lorelai read Rory's paper, to her emotional reaction. In my mind, I know what she was thinking, and hopefully I was able to convey enough that it didn't seem uneven and lacking without the explanation. Sorry. It's hard for me to tell how my writing will be interpreted by others. Also, review please! x) Y'know I worked hard… I actually pulled out the dictionary this time P so hopefully my vocab doesn't completely suck. :)


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